


The Cruelest Stroke

by Hormonal_Trashbag



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dark fic, F/M, Mentions of Rape, Murder, dexter au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hormonal_Trashbag/pseuds/Hormonal_Trashbag
Summary: The ritual was everything.It was what he killed for. One day, it would be what he died for.But tonight, the only person who would be dying was the man currently strapped to a table with long strips of saran wrap: the grotesque Unkar Plutt.Ben had watched him for only a week before deciding he deserved the flash of his knife. Unkar had kidnapped, tortured, raped, then murdered eight women already. Ben couldn’t allow there to be a ninth. So, the obese, grunting man woke to a fresh kill-room, prepared with care, just for him (and in the comfort of his own home!). He had needed to reinforce the table just to hold Unkar’s weight.Ben doubted any of his victims had ever appreciated his efforts. But that was neither here nor there.





	The Cruelest Stroke

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU'RE BOTHERED BY PROBLEMATIC FIC, DO NOT READ THIS. Ben is a serial killer. Rey is a victim of rape (though not by Ben and she is raped before the start of this fic). There will be a lot of dark themes and likely multiple graphic scenes in which Ben murders someone. If you've watched Dexter, you'll have a general idea. If any of this bothers you, please do not read any further. Tags will be updated as I go along.
> 
> I'm pretty nervous to post this but I've been wanting to write this AU for a long time so I'm finally going to just do it.

The ritual was everything.

 

It was what he killed for. One day, it would be what he died for.

 

But tonight, the only person who would be dying was the man currently strapped to a table with long strips of saran wrap: the grotesque Unkar Plutt.

 

Ben had watched him for only a week before deciding he deserved the flash of his knife. Unkar had kidnapped, tortured, raped, then murdered eight women already. Ben couldn’t allow there to be a ninth. So, the obese, grunting man woke to a fresh kill-room, prepared with care, just for him (and in the comfort of his own home!). He had needed to reinforce the table just to hold Unkar’s weight.

 

Ben doubted any of his victims had ever appreciated his efforts. But that was neither here nor there.

 

Unkar hissed as Ben swiped along his pudgy cheek with a scalpel. “Wha--What the fuck are you doing?  _ Why  _ are you--”

 

Ben tutted, collecting a trickle of blood as it streamed down the side of Unkar’s face, silent as he watched it pool and spread between two slides of glass. The light overhead shined through the glass to create a round, red target in the middle of Unkar’s forehead. When Ben was finished with him, this small sample of blood was all that would remain.

 

“You know exactly why you’re here,” Ben answered quietly.

 

He wasn’t so gentle when he gripped Unkar’s face, Ben’s gloved thumb digging into the cut on his cheek as he wrenched it to one side. Unkar had no choice but to stare at the eight faces of his innocent victims, young women that all had a future, before the man on his table had snuffed them out. Ben hadn’t taken them from the barrels he had found them in but he had been able to count their ribs from where they floated in formaldehyde. Unkar had kept them long enough to see them starve. He could have used pictures from  _ before,  _ shown Unkar their smiling faces, each framed by waves of shiny, brown hair, but their groaning faces in death sent a clearer message.

 

_ You’re next. _

 

The plastic wrap squeaked as Unkar struggled. “You’re  _ crazy!  _ I don’t have anything to do with this!”

 

Ben sighed, his disappointment unsurprising. Denial was so predictable...and pointless. Both he and Unkar knew the truth. He grabbed one of his knives, the silver of its blade glinting and slightly curved, built for slipping through flesh with ease.

 

“Do you think lying to me will get you out of this?” he growled. “No one escapes my table, especially not sick fucks that enjoy doing  _ this-- _ ” Ben pointed at the pictures with the tip of his knife, “--to women. No, Plutt. Tonight, you  _ die.” _

 

Something in Unkar recognized the same  _ something  _ in Ben. The darkness, he surmised. To those that possessed it, it was impossible to hide.

 

Ben poised himself, both hands on the handle of his knife as he raised it over Unkar’s chest. All too soon, this would be over and Ben would be left with the mess to clean.

 

“You’re a monster,” Unkar seethed.

 

“Yes,” Ben agreed in a soft voice. “I am.”

 

He brought the knife down. Fat didn’t offer the same resistance as muscle and the blade glided between the ribs to pierce the heart with unpleasant ease. Unkar sputtered and gurgled to no avail.

 

Ben slowly exhaled. The moments of clarity these kills offered were as short-lived as his victims. He enjoyed it while it lasted.

 

Well, there was no sense in dawdling; Ben had a rather larger body than usual to dispose of. He reached for his bone saw.

 

* * *

 

Rey hadn’t looked away. She hadn’t so much as blinked, not even as Plutt had been taken apart bit by bit, carved into manageable hunks. If she looked away, it might not have been real. She wasn’t sure she could take the thud of heavy footsteps marching up to her attic room again. Instead, she had stared through the slats in the door, scarcely able to breathe.

 

The man currently stuffing pieces of Plutt into black plastic bags was her savior. He was also a murderer. An experienced one, if she had to guess.

 

She would wait for him to leave. Then,  _ somehow,  _ she was going to break through the door.

 

Rey would be  _ free.  _

 

After eighteen days, she would feel the sun on her face.

 

He was passing her door, hands laden with heavy bags, when she realized he could see through the slats in the door just as easily as she could. Though it was dark, the lights from the other room must have reflected in her eyes and  _ now he saw her.  _ He paused and her breath caught in her throat.

 

No. No, no,  _ no! _

 

She couldn’t die like this, not now that Plutt was gone! A strangled wail escaped her as she scrambled away, tripping on the steps as she rushed back to the attic. 

 

“Wait!” he called after her, his voice taking on a frantic edge. Rey heard the thump of Plutt being dropped to the ground, and faint, metallic clicks followed. The man was picking the lock.

 

New tears--tears she couldn’t afford to waste--trickled from the corners of her eyes as Rey covered her mouth with her hands. Panic pounded against her skull, bile bubbling up her throat. She had to hide but as she spun in a circle she remembered the room was empty, save for a old, semen-stained mattress.

 

“I’m--I’m not going to hurt you!” the man continued as the door at the bottom of the stair creaked open.

 

Rey couldn’t do this, not again. She...she’d just have to escape him. She could stay in the corner and run past him after he entered the room. She didn’t know how far she would get on foot but anything was better than being caught. Rey knew that very well.

 

He was tall and muscled, and he immediately put a stop to her plan, a long, thick arm reaching out when she surged past him. Whereas Plutt had been heavy and soft with fat, this man was pure steel. She felt like a fool for trying.

 

* * *

 

Ben blinked down at the small, dirty woman in his hold. Her hair was greasy and matted but the same lovely brown as Unkar’s other victims, the large shirt she wore hanging nearly to her knees and covered in dingy stains. He tentatively curled his arm around her, only for her to shriek and thrash.

 

“No! No! Don’t touch me--”

 

Two little hands flattened against his chest in a weak shove. She was English, he realized.

 

_ “--please,”  _ she wept. “Please don’t kill me,  _ please--” _

 

Ben sighed. This was his own damned fault, and he knew it. He had been embarrassingly careless, to have dealt with Unkar while utterly unaware of the witness. Snoke may no longer be his master but most of his rules still stood. Rule number one:  _ don’t get caught.  _

 

Serial killers that were caught didn’t die of old age...not that Ben expected to either way.

 

This young woman was a serious breach of the first rule. She hadn’t just watched him kill, she had seen  _ him.  _ She knew who he was, deep down. Every other person that had seen him was dead but he could hardly kill her, regardless of how much easier it would make his life, nor could he simply release her. There was no telling what she would say to the police.

 

Snoke would be turning in his grave...if Ben had buried him in one.

 

“It’s over,” he promised instead, placing his free hand on her back in a piss-poor attempt at consoling. “Unkar Plutt can’t hurt you anymore--”

 

He was unconvinced that she had heard him.

 

“Let me go! Let me go!  _ No!” _

 

Ben shifted to block the stairwell before doing as she so desperately bid. The woman dropped to her knees, stunned for a second that he had let her go, before she clambered away from him on all fours, her nails scraping the hardwood.

 

She pulled her knees to her chest once she reached the wall, her wet face falling between the knobby points. She was mumbling to herself between broken sobs and Ben couldn’t make it out until he took a few steps closer and kneeled. 

 

_ I don’t want to die. _

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated, as always. :)


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